


Touched

by The_Arkadian



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Fingerfucking, Fisting, Kink Meme, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-29
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:15:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Arkadian/pseuds/The_Arkadian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on dragonage_kinkmeme:</p><p><i>“OK, this anon has a somewhat specific prompt (and kink *blushes*)</i></p><p><i>It's a "boys only" night out and they -m!Hawke, Fenris, Sebastian, hell even Varric and Carver-(although anon would prefer a snarky!rogue!Hawke) end up pretty wasted (probably in Varric's suite). All, except Anders who's "Not allowed to drink."</i></p><p><i>This anon would like the drunken gang deciding that the apostate also needs a bit of loosening *cough* up. </i></p><p><i>The catch is I'd like for the fill to NOT involve typical penetration, only fingering (from teasing to rough to multiple fingers just playing with Anders) and maybe object!penetration. And of course Anders coming multiple times without a hand on his cock (and repaying for the ministrations with his mouth - he does talk too much sometimes). Would love some nipple play. </i></p><p></p><p><i>(I'm just a kinky Anon with too much time that should be spend of studying...>>)”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Touched

Anders wasn't much enjoying this.

Being the only sober one in a party of drunk people was... irksome. Certainly not the relaxing experience that hanging out with your friends ought to be; as the only one not drink-addled, he always felt a certain responsibility to look out for the others and make sure they didn't do anything stupid.

Well, more stupid than usual, anyway.

He missed his Warden days at times like this; the days before Justice, when he could enjoy downing a pint or three. Or four. Or frequently more, if someone had challenged him to drink the dwarf under the table. Wardens really knew how to party, it had to be said – and if that party involved introducing a new recruit barely over their Joining to the particular delights of Oghren's special brew, so much the better. Especially if there was a prospect of a quick drunken tumble later on.

Ah, yes. Sometimes he did miss being in the Wardens. When you discounted the whole Deep Roads and darkspawn thing, that is.

He sat back in his chair dourly and regarded the others with a dark expression as his restless fingers plucked disinterestedly at a loose thread on his sleeve. They'd dragged him on a tavern crawl around the more unsavoury parts of Lowtown, and they'd inevitably ended up back here in Varric's suite at the Hanged Man yet again, and the cards were coming out. He groaned inwardly; as if he weren't having a bad enough night already, now he would get to lose yet more coin he could ill afford. And they weren't even all his friends, either; oh sure, he was fond of Hawke – hell, the rogue was cute, who wouldn't be? - and Varric was his oldest friend in Kirkwall. But the Chantry boy was bloody annoying, Carver was just an arse, and Fenris – well. He still didn't know what to make of Fenris, except he seemed to hate the mage with a passion. If anything about the elf could be said to be passionate.

“Come on Blondie!” said Varric as he shuffled his cards. “Everyone's in!”

Anders shook his head. “Losing all my coin to the elf yet again in Wicked Grace really isn't my idea of fun, Varric,” he said gloomily.

Sebastian took a deep swig of his foaming mug of ale – he seemed to have been hitting it heavily tonight; they obviously didn't let their hair down much in the Chantry – and waved his mug enthusiastically. “We could play for something other than coin!” he suggested, his blue eyes overly bright. His Starkhaven brogue had thickened with each mug.

“Such as?” asked Varric.

“Strip Wicked Grace?” suggested Hawke with a sly wink. Anders groaned. He was a terrible card player; he could already see where this was going.

“Great. You all get to see me naked and the elf won't have lost a single thing. I can't wait,” he quipped sarcastically.

“I was thinking forfeits,” grinned Sebastian. “But we could strip too. Would make th' forfeits more fun!”

There were blinks of surprise from the others. “Maybe you should go easy on that beer, Chantry Boy?” suggested Varric.

“Nonsense, I'm haeing fun,” protested Sebastian. “I'm _allowed_ to hae a wee bit o' fun sometimes ye ken! We're not _all_ doom and gloom i' the Chantry, I'll have ye knaw!”

“I like your way of thinking,” smiled Hawke. He was eyeing Anders with a speculative look – almost predatory.

“Come on, Blondie – what have you got to lose?” asked Varric as he started to deal the cards.

“Oh, I don't know,” replied Anders with resignation. “My clothes? My dignity? My self-esteem?”

“You lost that years ago,” snorted Fenris. “Look at you – abomination in rags, living in Darktown.”

“I love you too, Fenris,” replied Anders sweetly, his smile never reaching his eyes.

He stared at his cards and sighed.

He really, really wanted a drink.

 

***

 

He stared at his cards, then blushed.

“Oh-ho – Blondie's got another losing hand I can see!” chuckled Varric.

“You're cute when you blush, Anders,” remarked Hawke as he took another sip of his beer.

“Garrett!” objected Carver; Hawke waved him away.

“Oh shut up, Carver. I'm allowed to enjoy the view.”

Anders blushed even harder. It hadn't taken long for him to start losing items of clothing. He'd hoped it wouldn't be too bad – after all, with all his layers, hopefully he wouldn't get anywhere near naked before they all decided to call it quits for the night. Unfortunately he hadn't counted on them all having lucky streaks this evening.

All except him, of course.

“Show your hands, gentlemen!” announced Varric as he spread his cards. Anders groaned and threw his cards down as Sebastian crowed triumphantly.

“C'mon, Blondie, strip!” he ordered, as Anders resignedly got to his feet and began to peel off his shirt. He pulled it off over his head then froze as the others began to mutter.

“Venhedis!” muttered Fenris. He heard Carver mutter an oath.

“Maker, Blondie,” exclaimed Varric in surprise. Anders balled his shirt in his hands, clutching it to his chest.

“What?” he asked defensively. Hawke was rising from his seat – as was Sebastian, he noted. He took a step back as Hawke walked around the table; he backed away until his legs hit the chest of drawers behind him. He watched wide-eyed as Hawke reached out for him and ran his hands slowly over his torso.

“Maker, you're so skinny, Anders,” he exclaimed quietly. “I can count every rib. You're nothing but skin and bone.”

Sebastian was reaching for him as well, and Anders flinched away, eyes widening even further.

“Hands off, Chantry Boy!” he warned. He noted absently that Hawke's hands still rested, warm and somewhat comforting on his waist; he was more bothered by the prospect of being pawed by the drunk priest though.

“Ye're a skinny wee thing!” breathed Sebastian. “Ye're like a starved kitty!”

“Yes, well, this kitty would rather you backed off right now,” replied Anders uneasily.

“When you've both quite finished mauling the mage, do you think we could deal the next hand?” remarked Varric, riffling the cards pointedly.

Sebastian meandered back to his seat and reached for his tankard again. Hawke pulled Anders back towards the table and sat down between the mage and the drunk Sebastian. Anders couldn't help but notice the tipsy rogue had kept one warm hand resting gently against Anders' back; he was slowly rubbing circles against the small of the apostate's back, his hand warm and slightly rough with callouses. It was pleasant, in a distracting way.

“What will you lose next, I wonder?” asked Fenris, tapping a gauntleted finger against the side of his wine bottle thoughtfully. There was a keen speculative look in the disconcerting green gaze regarding Anders that he didn't think he entirely appreciated. The elf's face was subtly flushed from the wine, and he leaned closer to the mage. “You don't have much to lose, do you?”

Anders shivered. He wasn't sure he liked the way the elf was running his eyes over his bare skin.

He felt his cock twitch suddenly, treacherously, and blushed again.

 

***

 

Anders sat hunched in his seat, blushing furiously, hands cupped protectively over his groin as Fenris stood over him, slowly pulling the leather thong from his hair until it fell over his face, brushing his shoulders. He kept his eyes on the table as the elf ran his hands slowly through the silken blond strands. The only items of clothing the elf had lost thus far were his gauntlets; as the slender strong fingers stroked his scalp, he was rather glad the elf had lost that particular hand.

“Is the touching really necessary?” he muttered, his ears burning and his face hot. “I thought you didn't like touching?”

“Your hair... it's softer than I imagined,” said the elf thoughtfully. “I thought it would be, coarse, rough – maybe greasy. But it's... soft.”

Anders didn't think it was possible to blush any harder. Then he felt the elf's hands slide down through the hair to circle round, fingers trailing lightly along his jaw; without meaning to, Anders tilted his head up as the fingers slowly stroked down his throat. Then he swallowed hard as Fenris encircled his throat with both hands.

“Don't-!” he whispered, suddenly afraid.

“Fenris...” said Hawke warningly, rising and putting a possessive hand on the mage's shoulder.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” replied the elf quietly. “I am... curious.”

“Ye're scaring him, elf,” said Sebastian, pushing himself upright. “It's no' right!”

“And you're drunk, Sebastian,” said the elf pointedly as his hands brushed lower. He pressed his palms flat against Anders' angular collar-bones. Anders shivered as he felt his magic stirring at the proximity of so much lyrium.

“Stop it, please,” he whispered.

“Fenris, leave him alone,” frowned Hawke. “He doesn't like it.”

“Maybe he'll like this instead?” asked Fenris, as his lyrium brands flared into life, lighting up the room with a soft, silvery glow.

Anders' eyes flew wide open as a hot, sweet, pleasurable sensation rippled through his body, his magic suddenly surging through his body like quicksilver as his back arched in instinctive response. He felt a slow, heavy heat coil in his groin as his cock twitched.

“Ooh, he likes that!” said Varric, suddenly losing interest in the cards.

“Andraste's tits, do that again!” breathed Anders.

Fenris bent down and slid his hands beneath Anders' arms, pulling him to his feet. He slipped his arms around the mage's chest, cupping his palms over the apostate's nipples, and then let the power flow again.

Anders arched his back, pressing back into the elf as he threw his head back with a low moan. He felt his cock growing hard and closed his eyes as waves of pleasure rolled through him. He was aware he must look hedonistically wanton, helpless in the elf's arms with his naked body on display to everyone, but right now he didn't give a damn. He just wanted Fenris to keep doing _that_ to him again.

“Maker, you can keep doing that to me all you – ungh!” His eyes rolled back into his head as Fenris did it again.

“He talks too much,” complained Carver.

“I'm sure we can do something about that,” replied Hawke as he pressed closer. Anders felt his breath ghosting over his skin – and then his brown eyes opened wide as he felt Hawke's hand close firmly over his cock.

“What are you doing?” he breathed, then gasped as Hawke squeezed his cock then began to slowly pump it with his hand. At the same time, Fenris slid one hand slowly up his chest to encircle his throat again. Anders let his head fall back onto the elf's shoulder again as the lyrium brands flared into life once more and he moaned, low and needy as his hips bucked against Hawke's hand. He could feel his legs begin to tremble.

“Get him on the table,” suggested a voice; Anders dimly registered it as Varric's. He tried to murmur a protest as he heard mugs and other detritus being brushed hastily off the wooden surface, but then hands were lifting him bodily up onto the table, Fenris' hands pressing him flat upon his back as his head hung back over the edge of the table. Fenris' hands stroked his face soothingly, the lyrium flaring in soft pulses, each surge of lyrium pulling at his magic and tugging him closer to the edge. He groaned, arching his back off the wooden surface as Hawke's hand returned to his cock.

“What are you doing to me?” he whispered.

“What would you like us to do to you?” replied Fenris quietly. Anders' mind distantly registered the “us” part and he felt his breath quicken in anticipation.

“Oh Maker,” he breathed. “Fuck me. Please.”

Fenris' hands cupped his chin and he tilted his head back; and then as he sent flare after flare of delicious lyrium energy into the mage's singing body, he lowered one hand to fumble at his belt. Then a glowing thumb traced slowly, lovingly over the mage's mouth. Anders willingly parted his lips, and Fenris pressed the head of his cock against them. His eyes had fluttered closed but suddenly they flew wide open again as he felt someone lift his knees and then an oil-slick finger press itself against his entrance whilst Hawke steadily pumped his cock.

He was utterly helpless. And he was loving every minute of it.

 

Anders opened his mouth and Fenris slid his thick member into the warm, inviting depths. Anders hummed in pleasure and the elf gave an answering groan, restraining the urge to jerk his hips and pound his cock into the mage's throat. Anders' eyes were closed again as Varric worked his finger slowly past the ring of muscle and into the slender man's willing body. Hawke worked the helpless man's cock steadily, flicking his thumb across the head which was oozing clear pre-cum as his other hand idly fondled one of Anders' nipples. Sebastian came to stand on Anders' other side, his cheeks flushed with excitement as he watched what Hawke was doing, then reached out to run his hands slowly over the slender body, to be rewarded as Anders arched his back with a muffled moan.

“I can feel his heart racing,” murmured Sebastian. “Maker, he's beautiful.”

Hawke nodded. “He's going to come soon,” he smiled.

“Then slow down, Hawke,” admonished Varric as he slid a second finger in beside the first. Carver had come to look over Varric's shoulder.

“What are you doing?” he asked curiously.

“Watch and learn, kiddo,” replied Varric as he curled his fingers inside Anders in a 'come hither' motion.

Anders arched off the table with a muffled yell and his hips bucked into Hawke's hand as his hands reached up to clutch at his hair distractedly whilst Fenris slowly, leisurely pumped in and out of his mouth. Anders reached for Fenris' hips and tugged him closer as he relaxed his jaw, tilting his head back further so Fenris could bury his whole length in his throat.

“Have a care, mage,” warned Fenris. “I don't want to... ungh, Maker....” he broke off as Anders worked his flesh expertly with mouth and tongue, swallowing as he made an impatient, keening noise.

Varric slipped a third finger inside and started to pump his hand in and out of Anders' willing, compliant body as the mage canted his hips to take his fingers deeper inside. Hawke and Varric began to increase their speed as Anders' panting cries became more urgent and desperate, matching the grunts and groans coming from the elf. Anders thrust his cock up into Hawke's hand, his movements becoming wilder and more unco-ordinated as Varric's fingers unerringly found the sweet spot inside, stroking, thrusting, caressing him until he didn't think he could handle it any more.

Then Fenris came, hot, thick and wet, in Anders' mouth as he pressed both hands flat against the mage's collar-bones and let the lyrium flow into the slender body once more, and Anders came, messy and slick all over Hawke's hand and his own stomach, his body twitching and jerking spasmodically as he swallowed Fenris' seed; thick, cloying and salty.

Anders lay limp on the table, his body covered with a thin sheen of sweat as his chest heaved, his eyes closed, his hair dishevelled and his face flushed, lips reddened and swollen as Fenris slipped himself from the mage's mouth. Sebastian gently stroked Anders' body as Hawke gently wiped away the sticky mess from the supine man's groin and stomach.

Fenris wiped himself up then tucked his cock back into his trousers as he sat back and drew a deep breath, brushing white hair back out of his eyes. “Mage?” he asked quietly.

“Oh Maker, that was amazing,” murmured Anders breathlessly. “We can play strip Wicked Grace anytime.”

Varric laughed as he stepped away. “What makes you think we've finished with you, Blondie?”

Anders opened his eyes slowly. “What do you – _ohhhhhh_...” His voice trailed off into a low moan as Carver reached between his legs to cup and fondle his balls as Sebastian ran his hands over his bare skin to flick and roll his nipples between thumbs and forefingers. “You're going to be the death of me,” he breathed, writhing slowly beneath their hands as his breath quickened.

“You don't look unhappy at the prospect of death,” remarked Hawke with a grin.

“Believe me, I'm dying with a grin on my face,” replied Anders as Carver slicked his fingers in oil then pressed them slowly into him. “Ohh.. oh Maker... yes, please,” he breathed. “I'm... _ungh_... going to be the … Andraste's _flaming knickers!_ … happiest corpse in Thedas!”

“He really doesn't ever stop talking, does he?” remarked Carver as he began to thrust his hand into Anders' body.

“Oh Maker... harder... please, harder!” begged Anders, lifting his hips from the table so Carver could push his fingers deeper into his moist, warm depths.

Hawke ran his hands over Anders' body, brushing Sebastian's hands out the way. “Sebastian, shut him up will you?”

“Gladly,” replied Sebastian as he took up position by the mage's head.

“Isn't this terribly sinful, Sebastian?” breathed Anders as the priest took his face gently between his palms.

“You're beautiful, Anders,” replied Sebastian softly. “When did you last make confession?”

Anders blinked, then smiled slyly as he writhed helplessly under the influence of Hawke's hands on his body and Carver's fingers within.

“I've been a... very naughty apostate,” he replied breathlessly. “ _Ser_.”

“Then perhaps you should do penance, don't you think?” replied Sebastian, his eyes darkening with desire.

“Oh, _yes_ Ser, _please_ Ser,” groaned Anders, spreading his legs wider as Carver slowly forced his whole hand inside Anders' body. “Oh Maker,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Ask and ye shall receive,” Sebastian smiled, running his thumbs over Anders' lips; Anders smiled.

“Don't hold back on me,” he murmured.

“I won't,” promised Sebastian, and with one hard push he thrust his cock into Anders' willing, receptive mouth and into his throat.

“Look at his poor, neglected cock,” bemoaned Varric. “Such a shame, don't you think?”

“I'm sure I could do something about that,” replied Fenris, pushing himself back to his feet. Anders made loud, enthusiastic noises, nodding agreement around Sebastian's thick member as it slid almost all the way out then slammed home again; Anders closed his eyes and groaned, feeling Carver's hand filling him, tight and slick as it thrust in and out of his body, fingers curling up to brush him inside and sending hot waves of pleasure through him at each pull, his hips thrusting back into each thrust.

Then Fenris' glowing hand curled around his cock, and white-hot agonising delight raced through his body.

Hawke pinched and twisted his nipples hard as Fenris did it again.

Anders lost it. Completely, totally and utterly. He surrendered himself up as his eyes rolled back in his head, coming hard as his whole body twitched and jerked in helpless abandon.

 

***

 

They were gentle with him afterwards. Gently they bathed him with cloths, wiping away sticky fluids and wet perspiration. Hawke lifted him carefully from the table and laid him on Varric's bed; they covered him with soft blankets, and he drifted hazily into sleep as Fenris lightly carded his fingers through the tousled blond hair, each stroke sending pleasurable little thrills through the mage as he sank into sleep.

The men quietly took their positions around the table, and took up their cards. It was an uneventful game; their minds were on something other than cards, and frequently one or another would find their eyes drifting over to the peacefully sleeping man with a fond smile, or they would catch each others' eyes with small grins.

They slowly departed in the early hours of the morning; Sebastian towards the Chantry, Carver and Hawke towards their home, Fenris making his lonely way back to his dilapidated old mansion in Hightown. Varric was left alone with the unconscious Anders. He smiled at the sleeping apostate.

“Sleep well, Blondie,” he told him fondly, before retiring to a chair for what was left of the night.

 

***

 

A few weeks later, they were gathered in Varric's suite following another successful venture to the Wounded Coast. Anders was quietly tending to a nasty cut down Hawke's arm that the rogue had neglected to mention until Varric had chided him for bleeding on the rug; Anders had rolled his eyes before stripping off his jacket, tunic and robe and setting to work.

Merrill pushed open the door for Isabela, who was laden down with foaming tankards of ale. “Dive in, boys!” she announced as she set them down on the table. “Stripping off already, Anders?” She winked encouragingly.

Anders merely smiled as he worked on Hawke's arm. “Learn to duck,” he admonished. Hawke smiled ruefully.

“So!” announced Varric, picking up the cards and starting to shuffle them. “What'll it be tonight?”

“How about strip Wicked Grace?” suggested Isabela brightly with a cheeky grin. “Aces high!” She paused and stared around. “What?”

“You have no idea,”smirked Varric.

“Is someone going to tell me why Sebastian is blushing like a virgin?” asked Isabela, nonplussed. “And why is Anders grinning like that?”

“I bet it's something dirty,” replied Merrill.

“You have no idea,” murmured Anders.

 

 _~ Fin ~_


End file.
